


tasse de sucre

by NegaByte



Category: Cuphead (Video Game), OFF (Game)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Gratuitous French, Minor Character Death, all the bosses make an appearance here and i'm not going to tag them all, at least in the titles and such
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 15:34:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15099737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegaByte/pseuds/NegaByte
Summary: You've been assigned to a being named Cuphead. He has an important debt to repay; be sure his task is accomplished.For more information, seek out the one who answers to "The Guide."





	tasse de sucre

**Author's Note:**

> this fanfic was inspired by deadsurgeon's off/cuphead art! you can find them on tumblr!  
> obviously i've taken liberties involving literally everything but their art was my inspiration from the start. go check them out!
> 
>  
> 
> okay that's all for now enjoy the show

“You look awfully troubled, friend. What’s got you so down?”

Cuphead turned from the plastic sea to look at the speaker. The light of the rising sun shone behind him, giving him a fuzzy glow that hurt Cuphead’s eyes. “Who the heck are you?” he queried.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the glowing stranger replied. “Nobody’s visited this isle in quite a while. Who are you, and what reason have you for coming to Isle Zero, of all places, to stare into the sea so woefully?”

“I’m Cuphead, and I’ve just been saddled with one hell of a debt. And the hell part is literal, mind you- the Devil’s got a claim on my soul, and if I don’t do what he says by the end of the day, I’m done for.”

“Well, it could be worse,” the stranger mused. “At least you’ve got a chance to keep your soul. Not many who deal with the Devil can say that.” He sat next to Cuphead, swinging his legs over the running plastic. Cuphead looked him over- despite being right next to him, he still glowed brightly, forcing Cuphead to squint at him. The stranger’s aura made it hard to discern any details about him; all he could gather was that he was humanoid, about as tall as Cuphead, and wearing a black sweater. “What’s your mission?”

“Well…” Cuphead paused. “Turns out Ol’ Scratch never bothered to collect all his other debtors’ contracts, so now I’ve gotta go out and rough ‘em up so they’ll cough up the contracts.”

“That isn’t so bad, now is it? With a capable weapon, and some guidance, I’m sure you’ll have your soul back in no time.”

“That’s the problem!” Cuphead lifted the bat that he had set down next to him. It was old and worn with time, cracks littering its beige surface. “The only weapon I’ve got is this… stupid bat.”

“Anything can be a viable weapon if you wield it well enough.” The stranger stood up. “Come! I will teach you the ways of the bat, if you would kindly follow me.”

Cuphead watched as the stranger walked towards the large building in the center of the isle. As said stranger was about to scale the large ladder on the side of the building, he turned and gestured for Cuphead to come over to him. He simply stared at the stranger. Did that glowing weirdo really expect him to follow along blindly? He rolled his eyes. The stranger, still waiting for Cuphead, called out, “Are you coming?”

_“Oh, what the hell,”_ Cuphead thought as he stood up. _"It can’t get any worse, so why_ not _take baseball lessons from a loony stranger??”_

He walked over to the tall building the stranger was standing by. They smiled (that was one of the few details Cuphead could pick out about them) and ascended up the ladder, Cuphead following close behind.

“Now, the key to wielding a bat is to grip it tightly,” the stranger began. “You wouldn’t want your bat to fly away in the middle of a fight, would you? I doubt your opponents would be so kind as to allow you to collect it safely.”

The stranger then held out his hand and summoned a glowing X-shape in his hand. He turned his hand to the ground, and a beaming figure made of light appeared before Cuphead. It dropped to the ground, limbs tangled together, then rose in the air, limbs held up by strings that seemingly stretched upwards forever.

“I’ve summoned a little puppet for you to practice on. It can’t do much except what I tell it to, so don’t feel bad about hurting it.” The puppet bowed to Cuphead, who instinctively bowed back. Then, Cuphead held his bat firm in both hands and swung at the puppet’s torso, sending it swinging through the air.

“Good, good!” The stranger clapped his hands, and the puppet disappeared in a whiff of smoke. “You are a strong hitter. With time, you will most likely become even stronger. Your training is not over yet, though. Do follow me, if you would still take me as your guide.”

The stranger turned and disappeared down a flight of stairs Cuphead hadn’t noticed before. He followed them down into an empty room, where yet another light-puppet stood. The stranger stood in the corner of the room, his back to the wall. As the stranger flexed his hand, his puppet came to life, raising an arm and firing a white fireball at Cuphead. He flinched and waited for the searing pain; feeling none, he opened his eyes to see the stranger shaking his head.

“Your reflexes are in dire need of sharpening, dear Cuphead,” he tutted. “You cannot react to every danger by cowering in fear!”

“Hey, shut up!” Cuphead barked. “What was I supposed to do, hit it with my bat?”

“Precisely! You’re a clever one, Cuphead.”

“What? That was a joke! I’m not hitting fireballs with my bat!”

“Give it a go, and you might find it to be more effective than you would think.”

Cuphead sighed, but he gripped his bat and adjusted his stance into one more typical of a batter. The puppet raised the same arm and flung another fireball at Cuphead. This time, his bat made contact with it and sent it flying through the air, past the puppet and onto the wall opposite him, where it exploded into a shower of light.

“Perfect!” the stranger said. “Your aim leaves something to be desired, but seeing as your weapon of choice involves up-close melee combat, I suppose that will not be a pressing issue.”

“Okay, so I can hit a fake puppet fireball, but you know baseball bats are made of wood, right?” Cuphead replied. “If I try to hit a real fireball with this thing, I can kiss my only weapon goodbye.”

“That is a valid point you make. Here, let me have a look at it, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Cuphead handed the bat over to the stranger, who turned it over a few times and held it upwards. He mumbled a few words, and it glowed brightly for a moment, dimming greatly but still carrying a soft glow. He handed it back to Cuphead. “There you are! Now the bat is strong enough to break through near anything you may wish to strike.”

Cuphead looked it over. While the bat had been cracked slightly in some places, it now possessed no such flaws. He gripped it tightly, as if to test its strength. “Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t mention it! Now, if you could follow me once more, we can test the strength of your bat downstairs.”

The stranger disappeared down yet another flight of stairs, and Cuphead followed him closely. On the bottom floor, various steel crates were scattered on the ground, rusted from disuse.

“This place used to be a factory of some sort,” the stranger explained. “However, it was eventually shut down, and all the materials abandoned. As evidenced by the rust on these boxes, the factory was abandoned quite a long time ago, so I don’t think anyone will mind if you rough up a box or so.”

Cuphead gripped his bat and swung hard at the crate closest to him. It smashed the crate easily, leaving a sizable dent in its surface. He stared at the box, then at his bat. Had his dinky little slugger really done _that?_ As if to make sure it wasn't a fluke, he continued wailing on the box until it was little more than a pile of metal scraps.

“Now, friend, I think you’ve more than proven the strength of your bat,” the stranger chuckled nervously. “I think you will make quite a fine emissary of the Devil.”

“Thanks,” Cuphead replied.

“I believe your training here is finished. It is time that you set off for the other isles, so that you may collect the Devil’s contracts and save your own soul.”

Through a door to the left of Cuphead, he was led to a floating red box. It hummed slightly, the drone increasing in volume when he stood close to it.

“This red box will lead you to the next isle,” the stranger explained. “Simply touch it, and you shall be transported quick as a flash.”

“Got it,” Cuphead replied.

“Do not worry, I, too, travel through the isles frequently. We will newly meet each other again without a doubt.”

Despite having only known the stranger for a few minutes, Cuphead felt strangely reassured by the stranger’s statement. At least he'd be able to interact with  _someone_  in all the isles who didn't want to kill him. He didn’t even know his name, and the realization prompted him to ask, “Hey, before I leave, what’s your name?”

“You can simply call me the Guide,” the stranger replied, “and no other name shall be necessary. Now, be off! The day is young, and you will need as much time as you can.”

Cuphead turned and placed a hand on the red box. He felt the world spin around him, yet he remained in the center, grounded by the red box.


End file.
